Practical Matters
by Silencia del Umbrae
Summary: It isn't always about love for a queen. Too bad she can't get Anna to understand that.


**Practical Matters**

Disclaimer: Frozen and all related characters and settings are the property of Disney. This story and author are in no way affiliated with Disney, and no money is being made from this fan piece.

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"And you were mad at _me_!" Anna exclaimed as soon as she and Elsa were alone. The younger girl's face was flushed bright red, her eyes sparkling with anger. In the horrible corner of her heart that was amused by all this, Elsa was amazed that Anna had been able to keep from exploding in the middle of the meeting. "At least I'd _met _him first! I can't believe you, Elsa!"

Elsa turned away. It had only been two years since the Great Thaw, and she still remembered every second that Anna had been ice with aching clarity. She had refused to lose her temper with her younger sister even once since then. It was too risky. Certainly it meant that she still had to hide some things from Anna, but it wasn't usually difficult; Anna was so trusting that whenever Elsa was annoyed, she could mostly get away with saying she had something to do and ducking into her study. Once she was in there, she could remind herself that she had no right to be annoyed with Anna, _ever_. Anna, who she had nearly killed. Anna, who had sacrificed her life to save her.

But if Anna didn't leave off soon, Elsa was going to get angry for the first time in years. Anna had had all the same lessons that she had! How could she not understand?

"Anna, this is not the same thing," she said, each word coming out clipped and cold. She grabbed the doorknob of her study to steady herself. No. She had to be calm. She could not lose her temper with Anna. If she ever hurt Anna again, she would die.

"But you haven't even _met _him!" cried Anna, balling her hands into fists. "What if he's mean, or rude, or, or ugly or too old? What if he hates snowmen? What if he smells bad? What if—" she pulled out Kristoff's argument, "what if you hate the way he eats? Elsa, you _can't_ just say yes!"

Elsa restrained a sigh as she opened her study door, willing herself not to slam it in her sister's face. "An—"

"I won't let you marry someone awful, Elsa! I won't! I don't care if you're the queen, I'm still your sister and I won't let you marry someone who's not good enough for you!"

"A—"

"And he didn't even come to ask you himself, he sent an _emissary_, who _does_ that? Probably a smelly mean snowman-hater! So you should say no!"

"_Anna_."

Anna hesitated for a moment, which allowed Elsa to finally speak. "Anna, you don't understand." But her anger had passed; all her little sister's babbling had helped her realize what was upsetting Anna so. "He's the second son of the king of Froland, which as you know is one of our neighbours." She adopted a gentle, scholarly tone as she walked into her study. Sitting down on a small brown sofa, tucked between a pair of bookshelves that held books filled with Arendelle's trade records, she gestured to her sister to sit beside her. "We're a good match, geographically speaking, and an alliance between us and Froland will be good for Arendelle, especially since we stopped trading with Weselton. And…well…Arendelle needs an heir, Anna. _I _need an heir."

Her sister scowled. "What does that have to do with you marrying someone you've never even seen? You can't love him, Elsa! You haven't…you haven't met him or, or anything. I know, with…when I was stupid, I said yes, but at least I'd _seen_ him!"

_When I was stupid. _Anna's code for the interlude with Hans. She refused to mention him, refused to speak his name. As much as that worried her—she knew better than anyone what bottling up hurt and fear and betrayal could do to a person—what made Elsa's heart drop into her stomach was Anna's question. This was the part she'd dreaded explaining to her little sister. Anna, with so much heart and so much love to give, wouldn't understand Elsa's need for practicality. "Anna, it…it isn't about love."

"What do you mean? What could be _more_ about love than getting married?"

"It's not about love, Anna." She took her sister's hands in hers, shivering a little at the liberty of it. How could she dare touch Anna, who she had hurt so many times? Even after two years, the question kept leaping out of the back of her mind. Forcing herself to forget it, she pinned Anna with her steady blue stare. "I'm a queen. A queen has certain duties. I have a duty to produce an heir, so that there will be no question of who will inherit the throne. I have a duty to marry for the advantage of Arendelle. When I was named queen, I lost the right to marry for love."

She let her sister's hands go and looked away. "From his letters, he…well, he seems nice enough. I think I will like him. Maybe I could begin to love him in time."

"But…Elsa…" Anna's voice trailed off, small and sad, aching with sorrow that Elsa realized was for _her_. Anna was sorry for _her_. "Why him? Why can't you wait? Maybe someone else will come along. Someone who's just right, so you don't have to say _maybe I could possibly love him_. You…you should have better than that, Elsa." There were tears in her sister's eyes.

Elsa let out a small, bitter laugh, leaning back into the sofa. "Anna, I don't have that many options."

"What do you mean?" demanded Anna, her eyes flashing. "You're beautiful and smart and nice and—what do you _mean_ you don't have options?"

Elsa raised a hand as though to touch Anna's cheek, but found that she didn't quite dare. Anna did, though. She grabbed her sister's hand and held it between hers. With that contact between them, Elsa could confess the truth. "This is the first king who's dared to offer me a betrothal. Most parents don't want to risk losing their son if the _Snow Queen_ should turn against him, or have her feelings hurt, or if she's a bit nervous on her wedding night!" Worried by her own anger, Elsa drew her hand away from Anna, tucking both hands into her sleeves.

Understanding—and with it, fury—lit Anna's face. "You mean…you mean this is because of your _powers_?"

Now that she'd let out the bitterness that had been building in the pit of her stomach, Elsa just felt empty. "Father knew this would happen, I think. That was why he wanted to have me betrothed to someone by the time I took the throne. My advisers have been scrambling to find me a possible king consort ever since…well, ever since Mother and Father died. Maybe even before. It's been worse since I froze everything," she confessed. "Almost everyone who had expressed interest drew away once they found out about…" She flicked her hand and snowflakes fell in the room for a few seconds, comforting her a little. It was amazing how much her feelings about her powers had changed since she had learned control.

"That's not fair and they're stupid." Her sister's voice snapped like a whip.

She had almost forgotten that she was telling Anna this, getting so lost in the feelings that it brought up in her. Now she was startled back to herself. Anna's hands were either side of her face and her sister was staring at her with an intensity that she didn't think she'd ever seen on the redhead's face before. "Elsa, that's their fault. Your powers make you _special. _If they can't see that then that's their problem!That doesn't mean you have to marry the first person who says maybe he can deal with it! You should have someone who _loves_ it. Someone who loves _you_."

For her sister's sake, Elsa almost managed a smile. "That would be nice. But I can't." She was really starting to hate that word. _Can't_. Can't control your powers. Can't keep Anna safe. Can't thaw the kingdom. Can't marry for love. Can't let Anna, Father, Arendelle down. Can't, can't, can't.

And she'd die before she would tell Anna the truth.

She couldn't choose who to marry because Anna already had. Anna loved Kristoff, and he loved Anna, too. They would marry one day, Elsa was sure. And if they did, Elsa would be the only sister available to wed for alliances, for the betterment of Arendelle. As long as one of the sisters married with Arendelle's welfare in mind, her advisers wouldn't care what the other did. In order to ensure that Anna could have the man she loved, Elsa had to marry well. She had to have the promise of an heir.

But to protect her sister's heart, Elsa would never breathe a word of it. Anna would never forgive herself if she knew that _that _was part of Elsa's reasoning.

"He seems nice," she repeated instead. "I'm sure everything will be all right."

"But Elsa—"

"No buts, Anna." Her voice was firm, but still she looked away, staring at the painting of her father with a new desperation. Silently, she begged him, _Make her understand. Make her accept. Please don't make her hate me for this_. "I'm writing to accept the proposal. I've made up my mind."

There was a momentary silence. She kept her eyes fixed on her father's portrait the whole time. Suddenly, she was startled to feel Anna's hand curl around hers again, tugging it out of her sleeve. "Have you, Elsa?" her baby sister asked, her voice lowering. "Have you really?"

Elsa looked back at her. "What?" She shook her head, pushing her braid over her shoulder in frustration. "Yes. I've decided."

"But…is it what you want?" Anna sounded so hesitant.

She pressed her fingertips to her forehead before shoving them up into her platinum hair, relishing in the slight sting of pain as her already tightly-tied hair objected to the tug. "No!" she snapped, and a few snowflakes fell as she dropped her head against the couch. "No, it's _not _what I want, Anna! I don't want to get married. I'm only twenty-three, I've barely adjusted to being queen by myself…well, with you…and I don't want a king consort yet!"

Having a king consort meant another opinion to be heard, another argument to have every time she was set on something, another man who felt that he knew better than she how to take care of Arendelle. She had advisers to do all that already. She wasn't sure she was ready to have all those problems embodied in a man who was also expected to share her life, her throne…her bed.

A shudder went through her at the thought of that. She had control over her powers now, she reminded herself. It wasn't the certain death-sentence it might have been, to marry someone. Though she had been half-mocking when she'd spoken of losing a husband on her wedding night, it was a very real fear deep in the back of her mind.

"Then why not wait?"

Elsa cracked one eye open to stare at her sister. Had Anna been listening to anything she'd said at all? "Arendelle needs an heir," she repeated. "And right now, we need a trade partner as good or better than Wesel—Weaseltown." It gave her a petty satisfaction to call it by the name her people mocked it with. "We're still digging ourselves out of the hole I put us in when I froze the kingdom two years ago. We beggared ourselves to buy food for our people, Anna. To get us through the winter. If there's ever been a time that Arendelle needed a strong trade partner, it's now, and a betrothal will guarantee us the backing we need to get through the next couple of years."

Anna dropped her head onto Elsa's shoulder. Elsa still couldn't understand how Anna could feel comfortable enough to do that. "Well. I mean…a betrothal doesn't necessarily mean getting married right _away_, right…?" Her younger sister looked up into her eyes, looking thoughtful. "Why not let them think you're, well, considering it? Keep them waiting. They'd want to keep you happy, if they really want you."

"They want the alliance with Arendelle, not me," Elsa corrected. "Once we've dug ourselves out, we'll be very valuable as an ally and trade partner, and—"

"_Definitely_ keep them waiting, then." Anna grabbed her hand again, and this time Elsa didn't draw it away. "Elsa, you can have better. I know you can! There's someone who loves you _and _your magic, and all this alliance and trade stuff comes second, and you'll never find him if you marry the first man who says maybe."

Elsa cracked the first smile that she'd had since the conference that morning. That was her sister, all radiant hope and boundless optimism. "Now who's a love expert?"

Anna blinked and then blushed. "Well, I guess the trolls are rubbing off on me. Don't tell Kristoff that. He's already worried about the effect they're having on Olaf."

Chuckling softly, Elsa tilted her head, resting her cheek on Anna's hair. "All right, all right, Princess Anna. As you're my right hand, I suppose I have to take your thoughts into consideration. So…I'll think about it, all right? Now," she continued, sitting straight again, "I've got some agreements to take a look at before I sign off on them, and I think you and Kristoff were plotting a snowball battle with the poor beleaguered groomsmen." Smiling, she ruffled her sister's hair. "Scamper. I'll see you at dinner."

Anna grinned brightly back at her. "Okay. Are you sure you don't want to—?"

"Agreements first," Elsa insisted. As she watched her sister trot out the door, she smiled again to herself and went around behind her desk.

…In retrospect, she should have found it suspicious that her sister didn't argue any more.

The moment she tucked the last of the signed agreements into a drawer with a sigh of relief, a snowball flew in through the French door, open to catch the midwinter breeze, and caught her shoulder. As the remnants of the snowball tumbled onto her desk, Elsa's mouth fell open for a second, and then she spun towards the door.

The very feminine giggles coming from just outside told her everything she needed to know.

"_Anna_!"

Half-laughing and half-outraged, Elsa formed a snowball of her own and ran outside, intent on winning the snowball war that her sister had so unwisely declared.

The half-written agreement to the betrothal lay forgotten on the desk, Anna's snowball melting over the parchment.


End file.
